Itchy Feet

Andrew, October 14, Port-au-Prince

2008-04-15T10:29:00.004+09:30

"Over and over I replay in my head the implications of what we've just done. We told the Haitians that we couldn't physically stop their government from torturing and killing, but that if they told us in detail who was doing it and how, we'd bear witness and seek justice. Eventually the world would be outraged enough to send soldiers and reinstall democracy. We took notes, wrote reports, created summaries and a database of victims. I treated their wounds to give them comfort, an inducement to come forward.

They believed us, risked their lives to turn up at our offices all over the country, in full view of their attackers, to tell their stories. They exposed themselves, crawled in and spilled their guts, sometimes literally. They took off all their clothes, told me exactly who stabbed them and how, and trusted me to treat them. I handed out asprin and band-aids while the killers watched and waited. Now that they're at their most vulnerable, we're abandoning them, frozen in the headlights, roadkill for the macoutes' machine. And we're flying out, clutching our precious blue UN passports and bags full of Haitian art.

We just showed Haitians that our lives are more valuable than theirs. The logic of the mission was ours, not theirs, and so is the logic of our retreat. 'Tell us the truth and we will seek justice' was our idea. 'It's too dangerous and we must evacuate' was our privilege. Neither applies to Haitians. A ship with soldiers arrives at the dock and exits the dock. Haitians have no exit.

The most basic principle they teach you at meidcal school, years before you even get to touch your first patient, is 'First do no harm.' But harm is exactly what we've done, identifying the next victims for the assassins running Haiti. It was a vicious setup from the beginning."

- Andrew, October 14, Port-au-Prince
Extract from 'Emergency Sex (and other desperate measures)

Fresh Start

2008-04-07T11:54:00.003+09:30

So it's been about a year and a half since I've written a post, and being the lazy ass that I am, I never got around to writing about the end of my trip. Suffice to say, too much time has passed for me to clearly remember details and write anything of real substance (which will please some people who claim I babble anyway). In a nutshell, the rest of the trip continued to be incredible, the Masai Mara was fantastic, better than I ever expected, and on leaving Kenya I pledged to return... One day soon it'll happen.

So now I am no longer a 'mere mortal medical student', but have been graced the title of doctor, which initially was exciting, but now embarrasses me to mention socially to the non-medical. Well, perhaps not embarrasses, but rather, it creates awkwardness and assumptions, and before you know it you're giving advice about a rash, or an old broken bone. It doesn't help with the men either. You can be having a pleasant enough conversation with a man, unfortunately drop the d-word, hear the obligatory response "Oh wow, you must be really smart", and before you know it the drinks stop flowing, and he goes to the 'toilet' never to return.

Anyway, I'll save the whinging about the difficulties of finding an appropriate man for another day...

I've decided to start this blog afresh. I'm no longer travelling, well not for the moment. I'm based in Brisbane, working as a resident, surrounded by lots of incredible, intelligent people with different views, that continue to challenge and inspire me. I'm consuming more books than food - not text books, I've had enough of those for the moment - and learning something new nearly everyday. So this will be a place for interesting quotes I come across, thoughts, links to articles, books etc. A mish-mash of everything which I'm hoping will help me compartmentalize and express my ideas in a more acceptable way - so I don't find myself stopping people on the street and saying something controversial just to get another perspective.

"Dream to love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try to understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget."
- Arundhati Roy

That's what I'm hoping to do.

Lake Nakuru

2006-11-25T16:57:00.000+10:30

I mentioned the Carnation Hotel in the last post cos when we got off the matatu from Lake Bogoria at about 9pm we got chased by about 7 street kids sniffing glue. We had a to get a taxi to the hotel around the corner! When we reached the hotel there were all these young women lurking around the entrance. "Safest" place in Nakuru. Ha!

We went to Lake Nakuru National Park the next day which was nice. A big lake, lots of animals including flamingoes, rhinos, and the regular gazelles and zebras.

This place was nothing compared to Lake Borgoria, but it was nice. A rhino came really close to our van so that was cool.

We decided that we couldn't go back to the Carnation Hotel so we ended up at the Tropical Lodge which the LP recommends and where we were going to go before Chris's friend told us otherwise.

The Tropical Lodge was clean, with comfortable beds and about a quarter of the price of the Carnation Hotel. The streets actually had pavements and there were no streetkids sniffing glue lurking around outside. In fact, the streets felt so safe, it was like we were in a different city. I can't believe we spent two nights at that dodgy hotel!

At the Tropical, I started talking to the guy behind the desk Joseph, who I swear was probably the most genuine guy I met in Kenya (Peter the intern now comes a close second). He didn't have any hidden agendas, he wasn't trying to pick us up, he wasn't trying to make us help him go to Australia or wherever, he was nice to us cos he was actually nice. Hard to find in a place like Kenya.

The next day Joe and his friend George took us to the Menegai crater - an old volcanic crater that is seriously HUGE. It's no longer volcanic, even though at one stage we saw some smoke at the bottom and got excited - turned out it was just someone cooking :)

We climbed - well actually slid on our bottoms - down the side of the crater. That wasn't too much of a problem, what I was worried about was getting back up. We were sliding our way down and suddenly we saw the rains making their way towards us, so we had to head up again before the dust turned to mud and we got really stuck.

God, that was a tough climb, I tell you what. I appreciate that I'm totally unfit, and the fact that I'm short doesn't help, but I was grabbing onto tufts of grass for dear life, which wasn't entirely comforting...

Beautiful place though, breathtaking.

Lake Borgoria

2006-11-15T23:38:00.000+10:30

So I headed out to a town called Nakuru with Ann and Laura, two Danish med students I met in Nairobi. We left on Monday evening in a Luxury Premium Deluxe Rift Valley Shuttle Coach (I swear that's what it was called) matatu. It was merely a glorified matatu - filling up in Nairobi with only 12 people (incl the driver) and not picking up extras along the way. Although the drive from Naivasha to Nakuru is horrendous, I've done it couple of times now and this was the most comfortable form of transport along this potholed stretch.

We reached Nakuru about 9pm. Chris (a cool british lady who came with us in the matatu) got picked up and her friends offered to drop us off at a "very reliable and safe" hotel as Nakuru is "very very unsafe". I'm not sure if he was getting a commission or something but the place we ended up at was called 'Carnation Hotel'. The beds were as hard as rock, but the bathroom attached was clean so we thought we'd go for it. At about 2am we were woken up by trucks reving their engines, honking horns, loud music and general unrest. Again at 5am we were woken up by the wailing prayers from the mosque next door. I appreciate that everyone has their own way of going about praying to their particular Gods but at that time in the morning I really wished more people thought religion was a private thing. Why the hell would you attach a megaphone to your place of worship and make sure everyone else hears your preaching? Putting aside that no one can actually understand anything... I just dont get the point in that. I guess it's equivalent to door knockers - but at least they dont knock on your door at 5am.

We'd all decided to go to Lake Bogoria National Park the next day. Lake Borogia is now reenowned for its pink flamingo population, and hot spring that are about 200 degrees celcius. We got a matatu from Nakuru and, as usual, totally underestimated the time it would take us to get to the park.

As an aside, I made friends with this cool chick on the matatu called Sarah - a Kenyan who works for the UN World Food Program. Apparently they really need medics so she's going to send me the employment details. Exciting!

Anyway, according to the Lonely Planet (LP) you can hire bikes at the main gate, to do the 13km stretch from the gate to the hot springs. Through Sarah, the matatu conductor said that bikes apparently cost 500Ksh each and that they could take us to the hot springs for a price we could negotiate. It was nice of them to offer (we thought) but the LP describes it as pretty easy once you reach the gate, so we thought we'd get there and figure something out. We could get bikes or hitch a ride with another safari vehicle or something.

The matatu dropped us right up to the gate, and immediately the conductor jumped out and started talking to the police officer at the gate in Swahili.

When we asked the officer about bikes, he said they didn't have any. He said we could try and rent one from a local but it would cost us 500Ksh. I didn't have a problem with riding as long as the bike wasn't too tall for me (which most are). I'd had a bad experience with a big bike in Mauritius and didn't really want to repeat it. When I described the issue, the officer pointed to a huge bike and goes "That's the smallest bike we have in Kenya". I swear you would have had to be 2metres tall to ride a bike like that!!

He kept emphasizing that we could hire a vehicle into the park and insisted the matatu was the best way to get in. Not only were the conductor and the driver hanging around, but about three random male passengers must've decided they wanted a piece of the mzungu cut as well and were hanging around inside the van.

We were NOT going to get this matatu with 5 random guys into the park. But everytime we tried to enquire about some form of transport we would hit a brick wall. It felt like everyone was in with these matatu guys.

Eventually we spotted some mzungus at a campsite by the gate and went over to see if they knew what we could do. They were pretty useless and we were back to square one.

By this stage the Matatu had left but some randoms from the van were still hanging around. One of the guys approached us and told us he could get us a small vehicle and we could drive ourselves into the park. This sounded perfect and we sent him off to bring the vehicle.

After about 20mins, we turn and see the guy who offered us a vehicle, riding a bike and leading none other than the matatu back into the parking lot. I couldn't contain myself, I was laughing so hard I thought I was going to vomit. How obvious did they want to be? It's one thing to want to take advantage of mzungus, but you're only going to be successful if you're subtle about it.

We decide we needed to walk away from this situation, that was the only way they'd leave us alone. We started talking to another local guy who was working at the campsite. He said his mate had a car that we could rent, and in the meantime he could take us somewhere to get something to eat.

We all trooped off with Daniel, to the matatu guys' dismay and ended up in the random dingy local "hotel" for chapati, sukumawiki (not sure of the spelling) and chai. The town, called Loboi, is really small, with a few shacks in the "city centre" and some houses sprinkled around.

While we were eating, a young guy walked up to us, said he had a car, and that we could rent it. We thought he was Daniel's friend so said yes, and negotiated a price. Turns out he wasn't, he was just some other random local, but he didn't have anything to do with the matatu guys.

We all jumped in the back of Ashley's pick up and noticed that all these other African men were getting in with us. Laura cracked it and said we only wanted one guy in the car with us - it's not safe for three girls to head off with about 5 random local men. Eventually everyone got out, but someone claiming to the be the "co-driver" remained adamant. It was a shame we had to lose Daniel but were weren't about to be outnumbered in the middle of nowhere.

Turns out Ashley did need a co-driver - his older brother Charles - as everytime the pick up stopped they had to fiddle around under the bonnet and then we all had to push to get it started.

These guys turned out to be really nice and we had such a fantastic time. Ashley is 18 and has just finished his year 12 exams, he wants to be a mechanic. Charles is a fair bit older, he's a farmer now, but was a UN peace keeping soldier for 9 years.

Lake Bogoria is stunning. You can get really close to the flamingoes - they're so beautiful and their pink colour is really vibrant.

The hot springs are cool! Apparently they have a tendency to blow up so you have to keep your distance (we didn't) and the water is about 200 degrees celcius. You can bask in the steam rising from the springs and cleanse your pores.

This place is unlike anything I've ever seen, and I doubt I'll ever see again. I don't think my photos really capture how beautiful the lake, the ranges, and the flamingoes are.

I don't think we could've had a better, and more random time. It all just sort of happened without us really realising what was happening. I'm so proud of us for standing our ground and not giving into the matatu guys and not letting them take advantage of us. I know we paid Ashley and Charles waaay too much in Kenyan standards but they were nice guys and we were desperate. Desperate times call for desperate measures!

Mama Africa

2006-11-08T19:09:00.000+10:30

I reached Busia Kenya at about 5:30pm. A 2 hour ride ended up taking me nearly 5 hours. That's Africa for you.

Mama Grace, Betty's mother, came to pick me up from Busia and we arrived in their village Harambe, near a place called Mumias which is famous for it's endless sugarcane plantations. Chewed up bits of sugarcane carpet the streets, and there are plantations as far as the eye can see. If it's not sugarcane it's maize. If not maize then cattle.

I think this family is the one wealthiest in the district. Compared to the standard mud hut, they have a brick house, with no running water, but with solar power! They have a lot of cattle, who's mooing songs I bathed to in the mornings, and a large chamba (farm) with lots of maize, sugarcane, kasava and other cool crops.

As an aside I've had so many interesting bathing experiences whilst I've been here. Showering to the sound of our resident Maasai singing songs at Upperhill, showering in an open shower looking out over the river Nile and Bujagali Falls, and bathing to the mooing of Mama Grace's cattle. Welcome to Africa!

(Ryan and Mguito, our resident Maasai)

To be honest, I'm not sure whether Mama Grace knew why I was there. Instead of doing what I was supposed to be doing - meeting the guy in charge of the Computer and Bee Keeping Projects - I was paraded around and put on a pedestal. It wasn't fun.

The day after I arrived, I was taken to all the schools in the area who are receiving school books from Adam and Betty in Adelaide. At each school, classes were disturbed, and an assembly was called cos a mzungu was there. I was expected to say some inspirational speech about education to these poor innocent children who had no idea that I a) had nothing to do with these books at all, b) I wasn't there to be parading around and making inspirational speeches, c) I totally don't believe in putting myself up on a pedestal cos I'm a mzungu and feeling good about myself cos I'm saving little black children by giving them a hand full of books that schools in Aus don't want. This all goes completely against my whole belief system. I'm not in Africa to parade around as a white person saving the black race. I'm not interested in public health and community development cos I think I'm so great I can save the world or that I want people to look up to me. I'm interested in this area because I can't not be. It's hard to explain.

Anyway, I was feeling more and more guilty about having to pretend that I had something to do with these books and accepting people's gratitude. The final straw was when suddenly I couldn't find my mobile in my bag. As I was looking around for it, one of the teachers who was parading around to all the schools with us goes "Are you looking for this?" with my phone in his hand. I thought it was weird that he had my mobile, and that he'd taken it out of my bag, but I tried not to think anything of it. He told me that he had to message his friend back to tell him he was busy but he didn't have any credit, so he asked if he could use my phone. I was tempted to say no, but gave him the benefit of the doubt and let him do so. The idiot didn't realise I can check my sent messages, and the message he had written went something like this: This is dr. snieha from austria. call this number, she can help you go abroad.

I was pissed off. The idiot lied to me. I then had to field off phone calls from random people telling them I had no idea how they could go to Austria or Australia or wherever, and that no, I didn't have enough money to help them buy a ticket. Not happy.

That wasn't it. Everyone I met over the few days I was there kept asking me for things. I'd meet a random Bishop and Mama would go "See, he has no furniture, you must send furniture for him from Australia" and then the guy would thank me profusely and say God will be my saviour and all this shit. That's not why I was there, and after days and days of people continuously asking you to send them things it gets a little frustrating. In all my time in Africa so far, I have never been treated like this. I didn't know how to deal with it.

I suspect that I probably sound selfish. But it wasn't like these people were asking me for money to buy food or water or whatever, I was asked for stuff like a keyboard for the choir in the church and a generator to run it, furniture for the Bishop's lounge room, and a van for the kids at one of the primary schools to go on excursions.

Anyway, I was miserable and lonely and eventually I spun a web of lies and came back to Nairobi.

I've met some Danish med students who are staying at Upperhill. They're doing a brief stint with an NGO called Provide Int through IFMSA. Provide has clinics all over Nairobi - primarily in the slums (there are many more other than Kibera). I went along with them to a clinic in a place called Korogocho and we ran an information session on family planning for single teenage mothers who have had kids out of wedlock adn have been ousted from their families and dumped by their boyfriends.

These people have some really strange ideas about contraception and sex. As well as the standard story that I have heard a few times that Joshua was telling me - if the woman takes the pill a lot, the medicine builds up in her body so when she has sex with the man, the medicine is transmitted to his body and he can no longer enjoy sex (or something along those lines) - they have many other strange ideas. One woman was saying when she has sex with ehr boyfriend and she has her period, after 2 days he gets lower abdominal pain. She thought that was her fault cos she had her period...

I'm not sure why they have these beliefs. There are no mens health groups, so all the information the men get is from their friends. And when no one really knows the truth it's easy to blame the woman for random symptoms.

I'm heading to Lake Bogoria and Lake Baringo next week with two of the Danes to check out the pink flamingoes and hot springs. Then heading to the Maasai Mara with Ryan for a few days. Should be fun!

Matatu

2006-11-07T23:37:00.000+10:30

I left for Busia on Thrusday and decided to do it like a local and get a matatu. A matatu is minibus that locals use to get around. Matutus go anywhere, and you can get off anywhere you like. They pack them till they're bursting, and the drivers are notorious for driving drunk, stoned, or high on the local drug miraa. The Lonely Planet recommends travellers don't use matatus, but of course, I'm stupid so I decided to go ahead and give it a go. Plus matatus are much cheaper than actual buses and they get to their destination a lot quicker.

According to my Lonely Planet, the trip from Jinja to Busia was supposed to take me 2 hours. So I figured 2 hours in a matatu would be no problem at all. I had to pay extra for my pack, but it still only came to the equivalent of AU$4.

This isn't my matatu. This is just a random pic of the matatu stand, but you get the idea. I was too scared to take my camera out and take a picture or our van for fear of being robbed. Our matatu was called "Bismallah". It was good to know the van needed to be blessed by Allah...

They have the strangest names for matatus around here. I've seen vans called "Big Brother", "No pain no gain", "Jesus is Lord", and a bright pink one called "Shakira".

The drive was crazy. At one point we had about 25 people in a van that would carry a maximum of 8 people in Australia. That's not including babies, goats etc. There was one stretch of road that was so bad we had to drive on the dirt strip on the opposite side of the road, and then swerve when vehicles came in the opposite direction. The radio was on full blast with rnb numbers pumping whilst we all clung on for our lives. Apparently the government started to fix this road back in 2001. Somewhere along the line they forgot about it and have never started up fixing it again.

At one stage we stopped at some random town and I was the only one left in the van. The conductor said that we'd have to wait for more people to get on before we can continue the journey. I suspect to justify the petrol... Some guys started hassling me - saying stuff in Swahili and looking at my chest. It was a little awkward. I would've got out and slapped them one but I didn't want to leave my pack in the van by itself. Eventually a young girl got on the bus and said "Are they disturbing you?" and they left me alone. Juhiyo was going to the next town to collect some medicine for her grandmother who was sick. Her mother was the doctor in her town (she told me the name of it, but I can't remember). She was a cool chick. I'd say she was about 12 years old but she had attitude. The guys gave her a hard time too but she told them where to go. What a cool little girl.

The conductor kept packing people onto the van even when we were obviously full, and eventually a guy in the back cracked the shits and started yelling obscenities at the conductor and the driver. What dramas! Everyone (all 25 people) in the van decided to get involved in the argument and there were Swahili and Luganda swear words flying left right and centre. It was pretty amusing.

We finally reached Busia at about 5pm and then I had to get a bicycle taxi (with my pack) from Busia Uganda to Busia Kenya. I felt sorry for that guy... I had to sit so close to him cos I had my pack on my back, I could smell his body odour.

I got picked up at the border by Mama Grace - the mother of Betty who is part of the Books for Kenya project in Adelaide.

The source of the Nile

2006-11-01T21:07:00.000+10:30

We arrived in what I was told was Jinga at about 7am and I was summoned to the front of the bus. I got all my gear and as the bus pulled away I realised I was alone at a service station in the middle of nowhere in the rain. There was nothing in sight. Oh, except a roundabout...

I went into the servo and talked to the guy behind the desk Haresh. We bonded on a curry to curry level and he offered to get a boda-boda for me and actually secretly told me it should only cost me about 4000UShillings which was nice of him. A boda-boda is the common mode of transport here in Uganda - it's a motorcycle taxi like they have in Thailand. After I bargained the original quote of 15000shillings to 5000 we headed off. As we pulled away I realised it was probably really dangerous for me to get on the bike with my pack, as the rain had turned the roads to slush.

But I reached the campsite in one piece, just burnt my leg on the exhaust getting off the bike...

Jinga is amazing. It's so green. Everyone lives in mudhuts and there are kids everywhere. Once again you're always greeted by the obligatory "Jambo Mzungu!" and waves.

Nile River Explorers campsite at Bujagali Falls in beautiful. The showers are open and look out onto the river, which makes for an interesting bathing experience. It has tiers all the way down to the river bank where the dorms, bandas, and tents are lined up. There's a bar and you get a tab which you pay when you leave - which is a little dangerous...

There are so many Aussies here it's not funny. I hadn't met a single other Australian till I arrived here, but they're everywhere! And they own all the major businesses around here. I feel like I'm at home again!

Jinga Town is a little decrepit. You can tell at one point the town must've been thriving and beautiful, but all the buildings are rundown and unkempt and everything is covered by a film of red dust or mud. Including me. My feet are now permanently stained red from the mud and dirt.

Everything here has a name that refers to the Nile in some way. It's pretty funny. The stores, the beer, the meals in restaurants, the clothes, the hotels...

The Nile is famous for it's Grade 5 rapids (Grade 6 is the highest and they're unraftable) and rafting and kayaking fanatics flock from all corners of the globe to ride these waters. Maybe that explains all the Australians.

So, I decided to see what all the fuss was about and I went white water rafting yesterday. I couldn't actually take my camera on the raft - it would've fallen out and been swallowed by the mighty Nile so I dont actually have any pics as such. I got to the place we were supposed to meet and this old guy comes up to me a goes "Hi, I think we've met" in this dodgy way. I was like "No, I dont think we have, I'm Sneha" and he said "I'm Ian. Yeah, we have met, I spent the night in your banda the other day." Now let me tell you, there have been no visitors to my banda at all since I arrived, so I had no idea what he was talking about... If he was hot, I would've considered going along with the conversation just for fun ;)

It's weird though, ever since I got here, lots of people have been mistaking me for someonce else. I've been told I cured Josh and that he says thanks, that I hooked up with this Ian guy, and boda-boda drivers are offended when I dont know their names. How weird that there's some other curry chick who looks like me, roaming around Jinja getting with ugly guys.

Anyway, back to rafting. The group I had was so eclectic. There was Ian from Ireland. A Dutch couple working for an NGO called War Child and 3 Poms. Steven one of the Poms, looked like Peter Pettigrew from Harry Potter. Nice enough guy though. The other Pom was Steven's brother in law, and he was there with his girlfriend. I dont know her name, but I kid you not, she looked like Moaning Myrtle. And fuck did she whinge. The whole time all she did was complain in this prissy English accent, and all her boyfriend did was look at her longingly. They couldn't keep their hands off each other. It was gross.

Myrtle refused to stay in the boat when we practiced flipping, and started hyperventilating everytime we came up to some turbulent water. She had some serious issues.

I had an awesome time though, even though I had to sit behind Myrtle and paddle doubly hard cos she kept stopping and hyperventilating. The flips were awesome, the rapids were unbelieveable and the scenery was amazing. I can see why people are addicted to the thrill. It feels like you're playing a game with the river, teasing it. It wants to kill you, and you ride the waves on an inflated dingy hoping you dont die, and get this rush of adrenaline when you dont.

I think I nearly did die though - at the last rapid, which was the most turbulent, called "The Bad Place" for a reason, the raft flipped and we all ended up in different corners of the rapid, as usual. Then as we were flipping the raft back over again, I forgot to hold onto the raft, and ended up under it. As the water was so turbulent, I kept getting pushed down lower and lower, and people were piling into the raft which didn't help. I was struggling to get out from under the raft and I thought to myself, I think I'm going to die here... It was pretty awesome ;)

On the way back to the campsite we drove through a Circumcision Party.

Bloody Myrtle was waving to this bunch of fully grown men in a really condescending way (you know when you flex your finger instead of waving your hand). They just stared back at her, no one smiled, no one waved. Then she turns to her boyfriend and in her prissy english accent goes "I love putting a smile on their little faces, I love making them happy!". I felt like slapping the bitch. THEN to top it all off her boyfriend goes "Darling, that's cos you're special that way". Argh! Vomit! Why do people like that exist in this world??

I'm leaving for Busia tomorrow, and I'll get picked up from there and taken to Mumias, where I'll be spending the next two weeks or so for the EWB project.

Nyama Choma

2006-10-30T21:55:00.000+10:30

Ryan has decided he's on a quest to find food poisoning so we've been visiting the dodgiest(?) road side stalls looking for diarrhoea. The food here is interesting. Contrary to popular belief I haven't actually lost any weight yet - I was told before I came that I would lose a lot of weight cos the food here is low in calories :) They eat a shitload of meat around here, mostly beef, chicken and goat. A lot of goat. I guess it's only logical cos there are goats everywhere. The meat is marinated in salt and stuff and then they throw it on an open coal bbq. This is eaten with either chapati (the indian influence I suspect) or ugali. Ugali is a hard to describe, it's like a starchy thing. Its like polenta I guess, with no added spices or salt or anything, just maize flour and water. I don't mind ugali too much, it's a little bland and heavy but it's ok. They also have whats called kienyeji, which is like mashed potato, with some green vegetable mixed in and bits of maize. This is kienyeji:

Yummy! That's Brad (a pilot friend of Ryan's from NZ) with some lovely fluoro green Kienyeji. It tastes better than in looks.

This is a Nyama Choma meal we had at a local road side stall:

You basically get the meat on a chopping board, a knife, some small piles of rock salt and your ugali, chapati and kienyeji, and you're just all supposed to dig in.

In town though, there are endless streets lined with places selling Chicken and Chips, Fish and Chips, Sausages and Chips - basically anything with chips, which I initially thought was a bit strange. Bloody Poms and their colonization...

On Saturday Ryan, Zelalem and I went for a drive to Mt. Kenya. We ended up getting side tracked and went to a place called Castle Forest Lodge which is in the direction of Mt. Kenya but is in a place so secluded, it's actually quiet - which is a really strange in a country like Kenya.

It never ceases to amaze me how quickly the scenery changes around here. You only need to drive for one hour for the endless barren fields of dirt to turn into lush tropical surroundings.

The whole three hour drive there and back we were greeted with constant squeals of "Mzungu! Mzungu! Jambo Mzungu!" (mzungu = white man). The poor village kids probably didn't know what hit them - a Rasta guy driving the car, a white guy in the front seat and an Asian chick in the back. We got so many waves, and kids chased the car every now and then - I felt like the queen.

I then spent 12 hours on the overnight bus service from Nairobi to Jinja in Uganda which is famous as it's the source of the Nile. What a wonderful way to spend a Saturday night! Ryan and Zelalem insisted on dropping me to the bus station as it's in a really dodgy area of Nairobi called River Rd. It was a surreal experience. After we pulled out of the city the lights in the bus went out and everyone fell asleep despite the fact that it was only 8pm and the radio was on full blast. Even when we lost radio reception the driver didn't turn it down so we spent most of the ride with this loud disturbance in the background.

Thankfully, this was drowned out by the bus slowly and noisily falling apart as we bumped along a shocking road with potholes everywhere. It was so bad my teeth were chattering in my head and my glasses were bouncing on the bridge of my nose. That stretch of bad road lasted about 4 hours. We stopped at a number of small ghost towns along the way and everyone got out or random people would get on. I'll admit I was freaked out and regretted the day I thought getting the night bus was a good idea.

We reached the border about 3am and I made friends with a chick called Ayoh who was going to Kampala (the capital of Uganda - about two hours further than Jinja). Immigration was the most ridiculous process I have ever experience. We had to line up on the Kenyan side in the rain and get our passports stamped. Of course 7 other buses arrived at the same time we did so there were people everywhere... Then we had to walk 300 metres over the border to Uganda and once again line up there to get our passports stamped to enter their country. In this line we had to fend off people pretending to be officials and asking to see our passprts and dudes in labcoats offering to change money. Thank god Ayoh was with me...

Then we had to wait for our bus to get checked by officials for contraband or taxable items (goats and chickens and stuff) and then wait for the bus to pass thru the gate and drive the 300 metres to where we were waiting. This whole process took about 3 hours. I'm not joking. And we all had to stand out in the rain while this happened. I was so wet and muddy by the time we got back on the bus and headed into Uganda...

Mtoto

2006-10-27T23:21:00.000+09:30

So things are sailing along quite nicely.

Ryan sat his exam the other day (to get a licence to fly in Kenya) and met a Kenyan guy called Jamie who invited us to go paragliding in Maasai land with him and his friends. We all got up bright and early, ready to glide and camp in Maasai territory, but unfortunately the weather was terrible and Jamie cancelled. So instead Ryan, Zelalem and I went to Lake Naivasha.

Lake Naivasha is about 2 hours drive north-west of Nairobi. On the way there you pass by the Great Rift Valley which looks like this:

It's a breaktaking expanse of desert and mountain ranges...Unbelieveable.

We reached Naivasha and found this cute little place called "Drifters - Floating Restaurant" for lunch.

The lake is gorgeous and has lots of hippos in it apparently.

The next day I went with a guy from the hostel called Rene to Nairobi National Park. We saw a lot of zebras, ostriches, buffaloes, gazelles and giraffes. We also managed to see two lionesses and a lion, but we were pretty far away so my camera didn't really capture what we saw.

Tuesday was a public holiday for Iid (I think that's how you spell it) so I caught up with Mr. Ekesa for lunch - Betty's father, who's place I will be staying at in Mumias. He took me to an Ostrich Farm in Maasai land - a place called Kitengela. Check out these baby ostriches, they're only a week old.

Then we had ostrich for lunch. I actually ate ostrich. The guy informed me that they're slaughtered at the age of 8 mths - they taste the best then. It wasn't bad...it tasted like chicken.

On the way home I took pictures of random Maasai women and children walking along the side of the road. I hope that wasn't rude... They're so beautiful.

That night I had a few drinks with Reena at a bar called Gipsy's. It's in a place called Westlands which is apparently the Asian hangout. Reena is my mum's friend's daughter and she works for the UN as the assistant to the Secretary-General in Africa. She deals mainly with matters concerning Somalia and has to fly there pretty often. She is really good fun.

On Wednesday I went with Martin and "big" Joshua to the Ebenezer Children's Home. It was funny, a bunch of children stood around and stared at me and I couldn't really say much to them beyond "Jambo" "Habari" etc... so instead I took a picture of them and showed it to them. Boy, did that break the ice. Pretty soon I was the most popular person there and everyone wanted their picture taken...

The kid on the right is Kippy - he's my favourite :)

They're all trying to be homies...
They showed me how to do a dance...

Other than that I haven't really been up to much.

I went to the Giraffe Sanctuary today and kissed a giraffe - that was hot.

I'm leaving for Jinja tomorrow in Uganda to do some white water rafting at the source of the Nile, and then I'm heading to Mumias, where the EWB potential project is. I'll base myself there and do a bit of travelling around the north west of the country.

Exciting times!

Sawa, Sawa

2006-10-17T14:57:00.000+09:30

There was so much drama with the placement at the hospital and so, in true African style I got stood up by the Director of the hospital time and time again and it looked like I would never get the stupid letter I needed to be able to follow a few doctors around for a couple of days.

The night I got stood up by the Director, a guy in a conversation next to me mentioned the Engineers without Borders and obviously my ears pricked up :) Alberto is an ultrasonographer from Italy and his friend is an engineer from Ireland. They're here to kickstart a free ultrasound clinic and teaching centre here in Kibera - the second largest slum in the world. They managed to get a machine donated, and space in Kibera, plus a guy here to look after it when they leave. I told them my woes about my placement potentially falling through, and Alberto invited me to hang out at the clinic and offered to teach me how to do proper O&G ultrasounds.

I must admit I was a little scared to venture into Kibera. I've heard so much about the place from locals... But it really wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I got stared at, a LOT, but I'm kinda getting used to that around this place. Here are a few pics:

This is just a small portion of the slum - the place is HUGE.

How cute is this little girl...

So I spent two days at the clinic in Kibera, which was great. On day 3 I finally managed to get the Golden ticket which would allow me to hang out at the hospital.

On day 1I hung out in the Labour ward - didn't get to deliver any babies, but assisted in a couple of C-sections, and examined lots of tummies, which was good. I mainly hung out with the Obs Intern, Peter, who was so helpful and so sweet, I fell a little bit in love with him. The Obs Reg who was doing the C-sections looked exactly like Bailey from Grey's Anatomy. That was weird...

I ended up hanging out there till 9. Can you believe it! I've never stayed at hospital till 9 at home...

Day 2 was Gynae day. After the ward round in the morning, through a ward that smelt like a mix between urine and period blood, I hung out in Gynae Casualty and practiced my PV's and speculum skills. About halfway through the day, the Gynae reg had to do what they called MVA's. Now, I had no idea what an MVA was, so I naively went into the treatment room. I kept running through all the possiblities in my head as to what MVA could stand for - MixedVaginal Assessment, Major Vaginal Adventure... It turns out it stands for Manual Vaginal Abortion. An MVA is performed when there is a natural abortion and the os is open. I saw my first few abortions and they were not pretty. It wasn't the standard D&C as you'd expect, it was some other crazy shit man. Think a fat ass syringe, a vacuum, a really big catheter in the os, no pain relief and huge clots everywhere... Nothing in medicine has every made me feel uncomfortable like that did.

Nothing a stiff drink couldn't fix though, and I had my first experience of Zappa with a few people back at the campsite.

Kenyatta National Hospital is actually a lot nicer than I expected it to be. I had heard a lot of stories about the place, dead bodies lieing in the corner, and all that. The only complaints I have are the lack of respect for patients dignity. Being in a developing country, it becomes standard that it's the doctors' right to examine the patients without really asking them, or making sure people aren't waltzing in and out of the room. Which really doesn't sit right with me. Just because you're providing a service and the patients really have no where else to go doesn't make it ok to do a PV examination with 6 other randoms in the room.

On Thursday night I went out to a Jazz club called Soho with a few mates. Lucy is a Dutch girl and is currently working around East Africa as a tour guide for a Dutch tour company. Zelalam is an Ethiopian refugee who came to Kenya when he was 12 or so. He lives in Nairobi but is currently between houses so is staying at Upperhill. Ryan is from the US and he's an ex-marine, who spent the last year in China as a flight teacher. He decided he was over being a marine and wanted to use his skills to help civilians. He's in Nairobi and trying to look for a job with companies that need pilots to drop food into war-torn south Sudan. Kim is also from the US, she's been travelling for about 7 months already and is heading to India this weekend.

I had a such great night. Even managed to pick up after all this time.

I love travelling. I love meeting people. I love getting lost and wandering for hours. I love it all!

Karibu Kenya!

2006-10-16T19:12:00.000+09:30

So my second day in Mauritius was spent waiting in line at the Air Mauritius office so I could change my ticket and meet Anusha in Mauritius at the end of November. I had to go to the bank to pay for the "penalty" for changing my ticket and was served by a really nice semi-attractive guy. He was just starting to get better and better looking till he started to count my money out and I noticed the thumb nail of his left hand was HUGE! I swear it was about 4 cms...gross.

The capital of Mauritius - Port Lois, is a lot like India. Crazy, polluted, and with Indians everywhere.

I arrived in Nairobi on Friday. After I'd collected my bags and was making to leave, some stupid lady stopped me and made me open my bags. On finding all the toys I'd brought for the Ebenezer Children's Home she proceeded to tell me I'd have to pay tax on each and every toy - which is a shitload of tax. I was so pissed off. Everyone else was just waltzing by and out, they didn't have to pay tax on a couple of toys. Anyway, I don't know what the hell I said to her, but she said she'd let me go "this time". Thank god. Karibu Kenya!

Martin, the man who manages the Ebenezer, came to pick me up from the airport. He's a typical african uncle with a pot belly, a big deep laugh, and a really odd sense of humour. I'd booked a dorm bed at the Upperhill Campsite, which is near Kenyatta National Hospital (where I'm supposed to be doing my placement) and so Martin dropped me off there. He seemed a little taken aback when he saw the surroundings. He couldn't comprehend why I'd chosen to stay at a place with ten beds packed into a small room. In saying that, the campsite is clean, there's hot water and toilet paper, a restaurant with a small selection of decent clean food, and a small bar. Which is more than most hostels around here would have., so it's really not that bad.

On my first night in Nairobi, I met a bunch of american Peace Corps, who were basically a bunch of young people who have finished their undergrad degrees, keen to show the world that not all americans are ignorant, arrogant and believe Bush is awesome. They're posted all over the country in villages for 2 years and they do public health and education projects. They were a bit difficult to get to know, as they were all catching up for the weekend after being posted in woop-woop by themselves, but the few that I did meet were awesome, and I now have a place to stay in a few random places around the country if I decide to venture there.

As I was waiting at the bar to buy a Tusker, I met a bunch of Kenyan guys. One of them opened the conversation by telling me that as a bwana (brother) he felt he should tell me I should be careful of African guys as they only want one thing. After we'd talked for a while they told me it was strange for an Indian girl like to me to actually talk to African guys. Interesting. There seems to be a lot of tension between the African and Indian populations. But guys were fun, nice and bought me beer so we chatted for a while. They kept belting out random rnb tunes and getting excited - so I asked them why they liked american music. Big mistake. I was treated to a lecture about how the beats are African, the bass is African, the tune is African, the only thing that's not African is the person singing. Put me in my place.

Saturday, I walked into the city with a girl from the hostel. Nairobi is a crazy city - people everywhere, matatus flying around on the road (or on the pavement). It's a lot more developed than I expected. I guess it was naive of me to think that it wouldn't be, after all it is the hub of international activity in Africa.

I didn't do much while I was there though. I've heard so many horror stories about this place and I had Veena's voice ringing in my ears - "Don't trust anyone Sne". I must've looked like a scared rabbit as I clutched my bag and tried to explore the place. In the end I tired of looking over my shoulder, and I went back to the hostel.

Sunday I went to church with Martin and his son, Joshua. It was in the middle of a poorer area in Nairobi. When I got there I was given a tour of the place which has a couple of classrooms out the back for Sunday school, and the beginnings of a house they're building for the Priest. I ended up gathering quite a crowd of kids who wanted to follow the mzungu (well close to) girl and touch her. I shook LOT of hands. I was introduced to one of the Sunday school classes (about 70 kids crammed into a room fit for about 15) and they sang a welcome song for me in Swahili. I have no idea what they were saying - the only word I could understand was Karibu (welcome) but it was so adorable.

The kids here are gorgeous. I dont know what it is. I think it's their eyes, they're so big and inquisitive.

The service was in Kiswahili, so I didn't understand any of it, which was good. I didn't really want to hear about how I would be going to hell for not being Christian, I just wanted to enjoy the music and the love in the air. I had to get up and say a few words in front of the congregation which was about 500 people. I mumbled Jambo and thanks for having me or something like that adn then the obligatory "Praise the Lord!" to which the whole congregation of 500 responded with "AMEN!". I felt a little awkward saying that...

The service was a lot like how you'd imagine a service in Africa to be. A LOT of singing. The choir sang a few songs, then they had a small group of people who sang some songs (like at paradise) then the congregation sang some songs. No boring hymns with an organ for this bunch. It was all bongos, harmonies, clapping and dancing in the pews!

I'll admit I have always been sceptical of religion in developing countries... what I mean is I've always wondered whether it's something that was forced on the people when they had nothing, or whether they really believed and loved. These people believed, and the love that was in their faces - well it's given me a newfound respect for Christianity. It wasn't a scary love, like Paradise-goers, it was a joy - they were so happy! It was really beautiful to see.

I don't think religion is bad, a lot of people do. Admittedly it is the root of a lot of the worlds problems. Maybe it's the Hindu in me, but I think that any faith is good. No matter what name you give your god(s) and what processes you go thru to pray to them, at the end of the day, just having faith in something has got to be a good thing. The problem arises when you start to think that other people are wrong for believing something different to you, and you try to actively convert them (perhaps even for your own personal gain). I've always known this, but I think being in church made me really believe it, and made me realise how good faith can be.

The only thing that made me feel uncomfortable all day was when Martin's wife asked me if I enjoyed the service. I replied enthusiastically that I did, cos I did. Then she said "We'll make an Anglican out of you before you leave". Er.. I really doubt that.

Oh and also, grace was said before EVERYTHING. Even before we drank a glass of soft drink. In my opinion it's a little excessive, but each to their own.

This place has so many churches - there's a church on every street corner, people representing different denominations trying to tell you why theirs is better, and promises of healing. And they call Adelaide the city of churches! This place puts Adelaide to shame :)

Afterwards Joshua, Martin's son, dropped me home. He's the same age as me and does IT or something like that. There was a subtle flirtation on his part all day, but cos it's been a damn long time since anyone has showed any interest in me, I didn't think anything of it. He was saying similar things to what the kenyans I'd met the other day were saying "Asians are really beautiful" etc... So obviously I thought he meant Asians in general. Also, I tend to forget as an Indian that makes me Asian.

He sort of invited himself into the hostel, which I didn't mind so much, but every now and then when there was a lull in the conversation he'd tell me how big African men are. Now, me being a little naive, thought, surely he can't be referring to his manhood. This guy is Martin's son, his mum is a Priest, they own an orphanage for children affected by HIV/AIDs and he works there regularly. It was a surreal experience.

Eventually we talked about sex outright, instead of skirting around the topic. Hold your horses Avhan, I know what you're thinking. No, we didn't talk about having sex together. Sorry to burst your bubble. More about the issues around sex like AIDs, contraception, sex before marriage etc. He had this weird idea that if a lady takes the pill for a long time the medicine builds up in her body and then when she has sex with a man, the medicine goes into his body and kills his sperm. It took me a while to assure him that the pill doesn't affect the man at all.

Then he decided to tell me that he'd never had sex, to which I responded "is that why you like to talk about it so much?" and so he changed the topic.

He's a nice guy and he's offered to invite me out with his friends to experience the nightlife of Nairobi someday, but I can't help wondering whether I can trust this guy. I actually thought there was some chemistry with all the subtle flirting and sideways glances and stuff, until he started talking about sex and how big he is... Maybe he thinks all western girls like to talk about sex. I dont know. Very awkward.

Anyway, I have no more money, so I have to go. Next time an update on the placement issue - which looks like it's going to fall thru.

Honeymooners Paradise

2006-10-11T17:22:00.000+09:30

I'm in transit in Mauritius, but more about that later...

I didn't really know what to expect from Mauritius, or Mauritians (sounds like martians...) for that matter. When I was at the gate lounge waiting to board my flight, it was hard to pick who's Mauritian and who's not. There were the obvious Australian tourists, one group of what looked like footballers and their blonde wives , LOTS of couples making out in the lounge, two ladies with wedding dresses, a handful of Indian uncles and aunties, and a handful of French people. One or two hot islander boys (who I was hoping I would end up sitting next to - I mean if Arosha can do it...) and me.

Incidentally, I ended up sitting next to this typical South Indian business man, in a three piece navy suit, a metrosexual pink tie, a body that screamed "I've eaten too many laddoos", and enough bling to make Puff Daddy jealous. This guy had so much gold dripping off him I wondering why the hell he didn't pawn one of his fat ass rings and sit in business class. He had a bracelet that, I kid you not was a fat as my big toe, and solid gold. I tried to make conversation but he didn't really respond so eventually I who he was, what he did and where he was going was left up to my imagination. Thank god he didn't have body odour...

Mauritius is a beautiful place - I'd say it's a cross between India, Malaysia and a french seaside town. According to my friendly taxi driver, Brij, the population is 56% Indian, 13% Muslim, 9% from Mozambique and Madagascar, and the rest are Creole - people of Portugeuse and Dutch decent who's ancestors came here ages ago. It's a facinating place, with a very interesting history.

I'm staying with a friend's family friends - an older couple who are here from India for a few years. The uncle has a short term contract with the University of Mauritius as the Dean of the dental school. They speak to me in gujarati, the auntie is always wanting to feed me, and the Hindi channel is always on in the background with my favourite Indian serial "Kyun Ki Saas Kabhi Bahau Thi" or something like that - means "The mother-in-law was once the daughter-in-law too", so I feel like I'm in India at my Foi's place.

Today, I decided to hire a bike a ride along the beach from Trou aux Biches (where I'm staying) to Grand Baie which is considered the centre of the tourist scene. I totally underestimated the ride, about 8kms, which has been made worse by the fact that my bike is way too big for me, so I keep getting ass cramps everytime I get on the bike (cos I have to lift my leg up so high) and then ischial pain when I ride it...

The beaches are stunning - the water is crystal clear green and the sand is, I kid you not, like silk. The mountain ranges stretch across the island and provide a breaktaking backdrop to what is already breaktaking in itself. Everyone here speaks French or Creole (a mixture of French, Hindi and Italian apparently. It's wonderful to hear typically indian looking people speak fluent French, and english with a french accent. It's a beautiful mix of two cultures I love, and everyone is friendly to boot.

Not a bad place to transit hey?

New plans

2006-10-02T15:10:00.000+09:30

Firstly, Vic, thanks for your email. Sorry I haven't written back. Congratulations on the birth of your daughter! Sorry for badmouthing your co-workers - they weren't exactly friendly to me though.

So my plans in Kenya have changed a lot since a posted about them so my new itinery is as follows:

After transiting in Mauritius, I'll arrive in Nairobi. I'll do my placement for two weeks, hopefully throw a safari in there somewhere and then head to Mumias a village north of Nairobi to check out the Books for Kenya project on behalf of EWB. From there I'm hoping to make my way to Jinja in Uganda for some white water rafting at the mouth of the Nile, then back to Mumias, over the Lake Baringo to see some flamingoes and rhinos, then back to Nairobi and out to Mauritius to meet Anusha.

I'm really looking forward really experiencing Kenyan culture in Mumias - I'm so lucky to have this opportunity. Hopefully both EWB and Insight can somehow get involved in Books for Kenya in some way.

Africa here I come!!

MIA

2006-08-10T19:05:00.000+09:30

Vic is missing in action. I dont know where he's gone, or where to find him. I feel lost in the world without him. He was so cool, he even played in a band. Vic was with me thru the hard times, stuck it out and didn't complain when I had to change plans every few weeks.

Vic is my travel agent.

Well, he was. The only nice guy in that place. All the other chicks who work there are bitchy and really not understanding when it comes to last minute itinerary changes.

Maybe he's gone travelling. That would seem the logical thing.

Now I have to find myself a new one. One that has good rates, student fares, and exudes warmth. I NEED a travel agent that exudes warmth.

I feel like one of those girls who's always gone to the one hairdresser, and then one day they call to book an appointment and he/she doesn't work there anymore. It's a sinking of the heart.

Vic Pisani, where are you??

Developing World Conference

2006-07-16T22:57:00.000+09:30

Oh. My. God. What an amazing weekend. I'm tempted to say it's up there with a few of the best weekends of my life.

The academic program was stimulating and really challenged my whole belief system - which is exactly what I was craving. Highlights for me where the debate on Neoliberalism, a talk about the ethics of aid provision and key note speaker Dr. Ganesh Devy (a gujju!).

Dr. Devy spoke in a really philosophical way, which usually doesn't hold my attention for long periods of time but he was amazing. He spoke with such passion, and everything he said made sense. Real sense.

Neoliberalism. I didn't even know what that was. How naive am I. But, thanks to the conference, now I do, and it's inspired me to try and find out more about economic models.

The ethics of aid provision was really disheartening. Really made me realise that either way, whether you care and try and do stuff, or whether you don't give a shit, you're doing more harm than good in developing communities. Basically, the world is fucked. I felt so sad after hearing that, and I still sort of do, but I am so glad I got to hear that talk, to think about these issues. The young, idealist in me is adamant that I'm going to find a way around that. I'm going to care about the world and I'm going to do minimal harm whilst doing good stuff. I have to believe that that's possible otherwise there really doesn't seem any point in being...

The people I met over the weekend were awesome, so many keepers - too many to count on both hands AND feet. People who are fun and really care about the world around us, and so many in the one place! My favourites were (listed in no particular order)...

Lou - What a fricken awesome chick. Within an hour of knowing her I felt like we'd been friends for ages. Oh shit, I better go de-worm...
Veevek - This guy is a riot! He so nice and he's done some pretty damn amazing stuff. He's gujju, and it was fun talking to him in gujarati, until he disclosed that he's learnt "shuda" (pure) gujarati cos his mum is/was a poet. Admittedly after that I felt a little intimidated... A guy I tink I could definitely be really good friends with.
Fred - Exudes warmth. He's a like a big ol' teddy bear...
Hamish - I have such a deep respect for Hamish. He is amazing, and so so gentle.
Doug - Typical rugby type, whom I seem to have a (platonic) affinity for. My definition of a rugby sterotype differs from that of the norm - I dont think they're stupid and all that. I think of a beefy, friendly, really aussie bloke. That's Doug, great guy.
Amy - Amy is young but quite brilliant and she oozes confidence. In a great way, not a cocky way. She's smart and fun and sweet.

Zeynep - Zey ("Zee") is someone who makes me hope I get in Melbourne for my internship. I think, given time and put in the same spot, Zey and I could be really good friends.

Karl - A real sweetheart.

Ah...what a great weekend. Can't wait for next year.

New beginnings...

2006-07-10T22:49:00.000+09:30

So a new year, new circumstances and a newly organised trip warrants a new start on this blog I reckon. In all honesty, the last shot I had at 'blogging' royally sucked, but this time will be different. I promise.

I little bit of a miracle occured earlier this year and now my life has done a complete 180. No, I haven't met a man...but my Maang toll is growing by the day. No, something quite great has happened, which now means I get to do the trip that I planned last year, with some added bonuses.

The plan is to fly to Nairobi, Kenya, and do two weeks of my pre-organised elective placement. Then spend a week at the Engineers without Borders project up there which is a couple of hours drive outside of Nairobi. I'll return to Nairobi, get the train to Mombassa and then get a ferry to Lamu (I think there are ferries, otherwise, a bus). Not sure what's going to happen in between here but then I'll finish the trip with two weeks in Cape Town at a clinic which has african music and dance classes at the Community Centre attached! Awesome. I'm getting a shiver up my spine just thinking about it...

So, as I said, new trip and new circumstances calls for a new start to this Blog. Hopefully this one will be something I can actually tell people about :)